


Winter Meets Spring

by rainier_day



Series: The Mighty Gods [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, F/F, Gen, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Underworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 00:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20398594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainier_day/pseuds/rainier_day
Summary: The Fates are smiling at him.Never a good thing.





	Winter Meets Spring

**Author's Note:**

> Been listening to Hadestown nonstop and didn't quite scratch that gods!au itch just yet so I decided to write a prequel of sorts

Stalking down the obsidian corridors of his grand underworld hall, all the unseen servants step to the side and bow their heads as he passes. All save for the gleeful grins sent his way from the shadows just in his periphery. 

Keeping a steady pace, he peers to the side to confirm his suspicions.

The Fates are smiling at him.

Never a good thing.

Nondescript even with his perfect memory, they so very rarely interfere with the lives of other gods this must be an event of some magnitude.

Frowning, Caleb takes a sharp turn and goes to find Nott instead, his robes of shadows and flames fluttering at his change in trajectory. Maybe she can do something about these deities she concocted an eternity ago.

Just then, he hears a familiar voice—their very own messenger god doing her duty with complete earnestness but with mixed success as usual. “Cay-leb! Super big news! There’s a new god! Deucy dug him up in his garden and oh my gosh, he’s super cute! We haven’t had—”

A pause.

“We haven’t had a new god in like _forever_. He’s so shiny and beautiful and I love him already! Yasha really likes him too! Anyway—”

Ignoring the smiles still being directed his way from the depths of his own hall, even wider now if anything, Caleb answers the message before another can be sent, “Hallo, Jester. Thank you for the update. Please pass along my congratulations and greetings to this new god. Danke.”

He doesn’t receive a reply. Satisfied, he continues scouring the halls for Nott. It’s in the far room at the end of the corridor that he finds her playing with globules of elements and vials of primordial essences. With starlight in her hair as she sits in the dark with her set, she doesn’t seem to notice his approach.

Stepping a little louder to announce his presence, Caleb clears his throat. “Nott, is there anything you can do about the Moirai?”

“They’ll go away on their own time. They always do. One way or another,” Nott replies before looking up, her yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Hello, Caleb. Did you hear the news?”

He nods. “Ja, it is very exciting. Will you be visiting?”

She nods. “It’s only polite. Will you?”

Shrugging, he makes a sweeping gesture. “It is not my first priority. I am afraid I have work to be done still.”

Nott laughs, revealing jagged teeth, sharp enough to rival any mountain range. “Your work will never be done, Caleb. One day you’ll realize that.”

“That may be so, but such is my domain,” Caleb replies lightly. “Besides, I feel the need to reinforce the gates for whatever the Moirai are smiling about.”

Eyes shifting to some middle distance behind him, Nott arches a brow. “Must be something big for them to follow you around like this. And they’re all smiling. I didn’t know that could happen.”

He heaves a sigh and refrains from taking another glance back. “I was afraid you were going to say that. I will make sure Frumpkin is on guard for anything that might happen. When will you go?”

“As soon as I finish here. Yeza and Luc will join me on the surface tomorrow,” she answers, swishing a vial of some green-black slime with too many eyes. “I have a new concoction I want to test out.”

“Am I going to get another complaint from Fjord?” Caleb asks wearily.

Another grin, more mischievous this time. “I’m not at liberty to say. Besides, it’s not my fault he chose a domain where so much life is created. You’ll be fine, Caleb. What’s he going to do? Splash you?”

Massaging his temples, he waves her off. “You enjoy yourself then. And send my regards to the others.”

“You mean I’ll send my—”

“Nein, bitte.”

“—_Beau regards_ to the others.”

Despite his exasperated groan, he can’t help but smile a little at her cackle as she haphazardly packs her things up with the sweep of a hand. “Have a safe trip.”

Nott grins. “I’ll bring you back souvenirs.”

The next little while is quiet without Nott and her family around. Fjord ends up having Jester send him a message about some new island of monsters suddenly springing up from the sea, but otherwise, things are uneventful.

Without the goddess around to keep him company, he spends more time with Frumpkin, watching the cat dutifully bat wayward souls back through the gates. All the while, the Fates continue to keep him company, peering over his shoulder. Never making a sound. Never moving.

\--

Time passes and eventually the Moirai grow bored with him and disappear back to whatever grotto they inhabit, leaving behind only the imprint of their unsettling smiles in his head to signal that whatever they were hovering around for had yet to pass.

Relieved to have his peripheral vision cleared at the very least, Caleb returns to his usual duties.

Only to find significantly less to do.

Looking down from the balcony of his great hall, where once was a steady stream of souls waiting for judgement, there’s now only a trickle. 

Caleb frowns and glances up, wondering what happened up on the surface world that could disrupt the balance of life and death so drastically. 

Weeks go by and when it becomes clear that this is not just a passing coincidence, sitting on his throne, he tells Nott, “I need to go up and investigate this. Can you watch the hall and Frumpkin for me?”

Standing next to him, she nods encouragingly. “Of course, Caleb. Take your time. There doesn’t seem to be very much to do right now anyway.”

He arches a brow at her nonchalance and at once, the Fates are back, filling the imprints they had left behind with coy smiles. “Ah, I see. I could only put it off for so long.”

Nott shakes her head and gives him a reassuring pat on the hand. “You tried your best. Say hi to the others for me and maybe go meet Mollymauk if you have the time. He’s an interesting one.”

“Who? Oh, right, the new god. Mollymauk, is it?” he mutters, still distracted by the faces smiling at him from the shadows.

“Not so new anymore by human standards,” Nott returns. “Stay safe up there!”

Caleb gives her a crooked smile. “I will do my best to what with the Moirai hovering over my shoulder so ominously.”

At this, she shrugs helplessly. “Creations have a way of taking on a life of their own. Just ask Fjord.”

\--

Teleporting up to one of the many entrances to the surface world, Caleb walks up and out into the venting crater of a volcano and the first thing he sees is green. Eyes wide, he looks around to see flowers and grass everywhere, resprouting and springing up even as the heat of the volcano’s steam and his footsteps kill them off.

Eyebrows furrowing, with the snap of his fingers, he transports himself to a familiar city and is immediately greeted with a staff at his throat. 

“Who goes—oh, it’s just you, Caleb.” Rolling her eyes, Beau lowers her weapon and cocks her head curiously. Adorned in simple but masterfully woven robes of blue, she leans against her staff and asks, “What are you doing up here?”

He takes a moment to scan the great capital of civilization and knowledge and sees an abundance of greenery even within the city. The people look hale and spry as they walk and chat and philosophize. “People are not dying as they should.”

Beau lets out a bark of laughter. “Coming from anyone other than you, that would sound like a threat, but I guess that’s your entire job. It’s probably just all this spring, you know? There are still accidents and fights and all that, though, right? They’re not immortal or anything.”

“Nein, not immortal, just not dying at the rate they should be. What is this about spring?” Caleb asks.

A shrug. “Y’know, or, maybe you don’t? I thought Jester told everyone—”

As if on cue, they suddenly hear, “Cay-leb! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming up!?”

Caleb braces himself as a figure flies into him. A little winded by the impact, he winces and pulls the messenger god off of him. Straightening his robes, he says, “Jester, I apologize but this was not a planned visit. I am not here for leisure.”

“Not even a _little_ leisure?” Jester asks, twiddling her thumbs and looking up at him pleadingly. “At least say hi to everyone. It’s only polite.”

He sighs and nods. “Of course I will at least say hello—”

Jester immediately brightens up and takes him by the arm. “Great! Let’s go to the port and see Fjord first!”

Looking to Beau for help, the goddess in all her splendor merely shrugs. “Just go with it, Caleb. You know how excited she gets when you come up to visit.”

So the three of them find themselves down in the port where a familiar green figure is standing with his arms crossed. “Tell Nott I will find a way to destroy her and all her monstrous creations,” Fjord grumbles in lieu of a greeting, his tusks jutting upwards, pressed against his lip.

Caleb dips his head. “I will pass on the message.”

Lightening up a little, Fjord turns to him, his armour made of battered leather and barnacles reminiscent of a sunken ship. Threads of water weave between the pieces and hold them steady while a cloak of deep emerald kelp billows behind him. “Good. How are you, Caleb?”

“I am well. I am trying to find the source of all this _life_,” he replies, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings. Then he looks up at the skies and asks, “Where are Yasha and Zuala?”

“They’re probably with Caduceus and Molly in the gardens,” Beau tells him. “Yasha’s completely taken with him. Have you met him yet?”

He shakes his head. “Nein, shall we go there? I can say hello and return to tracking down the source of my problem.”

Jester blinks and opens her mouth but Beau quickly interjects, “Sounds like a plan. By the way, what’s with the Fates?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Caleb replies with a shrug. Then a thought occurs to him. “Beauregard, this Mollymauk, what does he do?”

Fjord arches a brow. “Molly? He’s the god of spring.”

Caleb looks around at all the greenery around and nods slowly, realization dawning on him. “Ah, so he is the reason for…”

“I was wondering when you’d catch on,” Beau tells him with a snicker. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

He narrows his eyes slightly but shakes his head. “I may have a perfect memory but knowledge is your domain.”

\--

Teleporting to Caduceus’ great gardens, he lands in a field of flowers surrounded by thick, impenetrable woods. As his feet touch the ground, he watches the flowers wither up and die underneath at his touch only to spring back to life a moment later. Followed closely by the other gods, he trudges through the field toward the sound of voices.

“My dear, I have never seen a head more in need of flowers.”

“Really? Well, if you insist,” comes Yasha’s soft voice.

“Oh, I _absolutely_ insist!”

Caleb cocks his head to the side, his curiosity piqued. Who is this springtime god who so abruptly interrupted the ways of the underworld? 

Walking forward, he soon comes upon the familiar figures of Yasha and Zuala, their broad shoulders nearly touching as they sit side by side in the field of flowers. There’s a faint crackle and he watches Yasha’s shroud of dark grey clouds rumble with thunder and spark with lightning. Even from afar, he can feel the static in the air and waves it off.

Next to her, Zuala’s white and gold attire sits in stark contrast to her wife’s storm-woven gear. She’s watching and smiling as a crown of blue and white flowers are woven into Yasha’s hair.

He takes a few more steps and stops in his tracks.

Sitting with the goddesses is a god Caleb has never seen before. With skin of lavender and hair of deep royal purple, the new god has a coat of rainbows draped over his form and is kneeling with his arms outstretched over Yasha’s hair. Crimson eyes narrow in concentration, still young and bright but with all the heavy wisdom that comes with godhood. Making subtle gestures, from his ring-adorned fingers, flowers spring forth obediently, finishing the wreath around the goddess’ head. 

“There! Absolutely gorgeous!” the god exclaims happily. Then turning to them, he smiles and pulls his long flower-woven hair over his shoulder and starts braiding it idly. “Ah, I wasn’t expecting more guests! I only recognize most of you!”

“Yeah, this is Caleb,” Beau says, pointing to him. “Nott probably told you all about him.”

Caleb feels himself go slack-jawed as he takes in the god’s high cheekbones and the delicate curve of his horns, bedecked in jewellery and flowers. On that lavender skin, the intricate etchings of flowers of every kind seem to decorate his entire body. Behind him, Caleb feels the weight of the Moirai’s presence disappear but can’t bring himself to turn away from the sight in front of him to check. 

Walking past him, Jester waves happily at the gods and starts conversationally, “Hi Yasha and Zuala and Molly! How are you? People still leaving kids at your temples claiming them to be yours?”

Yasha and Zuala both turn around and the storm goddess nods. “Hello, Jester. They are but I don’t know how to get them to stop.”

“Oh, you too?” Fjord asks. “I’ve gotten a couple of those too. I normally just send them to a temple or out to sea.”

With a teasing smile, Zuala leans forward. “I tried to tell her to pay them no mind but this wife of mine always ends up pitying them and granting them powers. Now she’s got quite the reputation.”

“That’s pretty funny,” Beauregard says with a light scoff. “It explains all the people running around and claiming to be demigods. I had to knock a couple down a peg...to the underworld. Hope you don’t mind.”

“It happens,” Yasha merely says. “I try to keep an eye on my favourites, you know? Jester helps.”

“Oh, guests,” comes a new voice. Emerging from the opposite end of the field is a thin, towering figure. With hair of startling pink and billowing white silk beneath a breastplate of iridescent beetle green, Caduceus smiles. “This is nice. I’ll put on some tea for everyone.”

All the while, Caleb is still rooted to the spot as he watches the springtime god get to his feet and approach, his long, slender tail twisting and curling inquisitively. More flowers bloom with every step until the god is standing in front of him, vibrant and stunning. Even with his perfect memory, Caleb can’t recall a time he saw anything more beautiful. “Caleb, was it? I’m Mollymauk.” Tilting his head slightly, he says, “There’s something different about you.”

“Caleb is the god of death,” Yasha explains. “He rules over the underworld. I mean, that’s pretty different compared to everyone else you’ve met so far, you know?”

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Molly replies lightly, still inspecting him. “There’s something else. Do you speak, Caleb? I would very much like to hear your voice.”

“Mollymauk,” he manages, rediscovering his voice. 

The springtime god’s smile widens. “Yes?”

Mollymauk. 

The syllables sound like raindrops at the end of a drought. Like the sight of land after an endless voyage at sea, they leave a sweet taste on his tongue, telling him of everything he never knew he needed and missed. It’s beautiful and breathtaking and so dizzyingly wonderful it threatens to leave him winded.

“Mollymauk,” he says again. “Would you mind very much if I courted you?”

There’s a long pause across the field.

Crimson eyes widen and blink for several seconds before Mollymauk throws his head back and laughs. “So _that’s_ what it was! You’re _mine_! And you have always been mine just as I have always been yours.” Reaching out and taking his hands, the beautiful god says, “Caleb, I wouldn’t mind if you _married_ me!”

“That was the plan eventually,” Caleb replies with a sheepish little smile, lightheaded with joy. “But I am glad we are on the same page.” Squeezing Molly’s hands, he adds, “I know you, Mollymauk—_husband_. Even though we only just met, somehow, it feels as if I have always known you. Ah, and I hope you will not mind, but I would also very much like to take the time to properly meet you.”

Smile softening, Molly tugs him forward, his tail looping around and wrapping around Caleb’s waist. “There’s nothing I would like more. Come, tell me more, husband mine. I want to hear your stories.”


End file.
